Playing God

She laid there with unblinking eyes;
Her face was still as stone.
She breathed through tubes
And couldn't talk,
Nor laugh, nor cry, nor moan.

The doctors planned to "pull the plug".
They'd given every wonder drug
That they could find, without a change.
They weren't surprised.
It wasn't strange.

They planned right then to end her life,
Unwilling to prolong her strife,
But death was not THEIR gift to give.
They WEREN'T the One
Who made her LIVE.

They WEREN'T the God
Who made her heart,
And gave her life
Its fragile start,
Who gave her plans and hopes and dreams!

They planned her death,
Or so it seems.

So they began
To shut things off,
First her air...
"Was that a cough?
Oh, wait! She moved her hand a bit!"
The fire of life had been re-lit!
I could have sworn I'd heard a cry,
A subtle sound,
The faintest sigh.

Could there have been the faintest hope
For her recovery?
I let the Father be in charge
To let the doctors see
The Hand of God.

"She's coming to!
Her life is being made anew!
She's sitting up and smiling now!
Oh, what a sight to see!
She wants to pull me to her side
To share her victory!"

From her coma,
Back to stay,
She's still my Grandma
To this day.
If God had let them pull the plug,
I'd not have felt another hug.

Life is GOD'S to give and take,
And doctors have no right
To take a person's LIFE in hand,
Extinguishing its light,
For they cannot CREATE a soul,
And if they cannot make it whole,
It's up to God beyond the skies
To say who lives...
Or finally dies.